7 Months of Mayhem
by RunningQuill
Summary: Sacred Twenty-Eight minus One: Hermione is expecting! Mood swings, childbirth classes, invasive friends and family... If Draco was hoping for some peace and quiet after the Christmas madness, he was very much mistaken! OFFICIAL SEQUEL TO 'MAYHEM BEFORE CHRISTMAS! If you are looking for something serious, you won't find it here! (ON HIATUS FOR PERSONAL REASONS.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** All rights on the Harry Potter Universe belong to J. K. Rowling!

The finals are over, and guess what? My brain went on a hike again! Here is the promised sequel to ' _Mayhem before Christmas'_! Turns out it's going to be a multi-chaptered fic! No updating schedule this time, but it should be once or twice a week.

Rated M for language and adult themes.

Enjoy your read and don't forget to review!

Plot? What plot?

* * *

 _Sunday morning, January 9_ _th_ _, 2005 – 9 weeks along_

 _Central London, Malfoy residence_

"I have to go vomit…" whimpered Hermione through gritted teeth, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth.

"So that's where we are at now, isn't it? You can't even stand the sight of me!"

Hermione glared up at the dark-skinned man in a blue paisley shirt who was blocking her path to the kitchen doorway, looking hurt.

"Blaise, I swear if you don't let me pass…" she growled.

He cut her off with a wave of his hand and took her by the shoulders, his face level with hers and a pleading look in his eyes.

"Hermione, sweetheart, I know I did terrible things, okay?" he wailed. "But you can't be mad at me forever!"

Hermione shuddered with disgust and tried to escape his grip, her features crinkling at the strong smell of his cologne, but Blaise was holding onto her like a Grindylow with trust issues. To complete the impression, the waves of his sweetish perfume were clouding her like the fumes of a swamp. The young woman hiccupped.

"Blaise…"

"Just tell me what to do to make it up to you!"

"Blaise, let me pass!" screeched Hermione, her pale cheeks turning a greenish tinge.

She pried his fingers off her shoulders, but just as she was attempting to duck under his arm and out of the kitchen, he threw himself in the doorway with his arms and legs outstretched.

"No! I'm the most pathetic being, Hermione! I'm aware of it!" he exclaimed dramatically. "Well, maybe not as pathetic as him…" he added thoughtfully, gazing past her.

Despite her raging nausea, Hermione unwittingly cast a glance over her shoulder towards the massive kitchen island. Still clad in his old checkered pajamas, Ron was sitting on a bar stool opposite them and was very busy fishing with his bare hands small bits of bacon out of a pot of baked beans. Sensing them watching him, he looked up and hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of bacon.

"What?" he mumbled.

"I was just telling Hermione you were the more pathetic of the two of us," said Blaise.

Ron blinked, seemingly mulling over the statement, and shrugged.

"He is not wrong… The other day, I watched a pigeon die."

Hermione closed her eyes briefly to brace herself and turned away to try to get past Blaise but he jumped in her way once more.

"Look, I'm despicable, okay?" he blurted out quickly. "But I'm deeply insecure, alright? I know it's not obvious… I'm playing this big, tough guy who has the world in his hands, handsome but humble at the same time, you know… Confident without forgetting to be gentle, and all in all, lovable…"

He flashed her a seductive grin, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and bucking his hips forward. Hermione moaned, now both her hands clasped over her mouth, and turned frantically on the spot as though looking for another way out.

"But to tell you the truth, I went through some pretty dark times just like everyone else…" continued Blaise, completely oblivious. "I'll tell you everything, okay? When I was nine years old, I fed Fizzing Whizbees to a frog, and it died… Then I went into a period of time where I fed them to all little animals. Squirrels can live through it, chipmunks can live through it. Anything that lives half in and out of water dies, and I don't understand why."

"Zabini…"

"… When I was ten, I once walked by my mother sleeping, and I snuck in the room, and I put a whole pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in her mouth! When I was eleven, I once tried on my girl cousin's wool tights, and I didn't hate the way it felt!"

"Zabini!"

"My sixteenth year, I never got an erection! I thought they were done! I thought my penis was dead!"

"Oh, Merlin!"

"It wasn't."

"It will be!" yelled Hermione, darting to the brass bin in a corner of the kitchen and kicking it open.

She fell to her knees before it, gripping the edge of the bin and coughing up convulsively. She was vaguely aware of someone exclaiming "What the hell is going on here?" and saw out of the corner of her eye Blaise being shoved away.

"I didn't think she meant it literally!" replied the latter defensively.

Next moment, she felt Draco's hands brushing her curls off her face and holding her hair back while he squatted down beside her.

"You alright?" he asked worriedly, rubbing her between the shoulder blades.

"The smell… Get it out of my kitchen!" she managed to choke out, gesturing haphazardly over her shoulder.

" _It_? I'm an _it_ now?" huffed Blaise, offended.

"Not you, you bloody idiot!" barked Draco. "The smoked salmon you brought! The smell is making her sick! Get it out of here!"

"I'm on it!" chanted Ron merrily, snatching the silver tray of fish from the kitchen worktop before Blaise could take it.

Hermione watched him lift the greasy, pink pieces of salmon between his fingers and stuff them into his mouth before chewing them with squelching noises. Sickness bent her over again.

"Out, all of you!" bellowed Draco.

 **/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\**

When after a quick cleanup in the bathroom Hermione finally entered the dining room flooded with rare winter sunlight, everyone was already gathered around the long table and tucking into the copious brunch. Blaise had cautiously settled at the far end of the table and peered at her sheepishly from behind a jug of milk. Draco had saved her a seat between him and Ginny; she and Harry were listening with carefully composed faces to Ron and Theo, who sat opposite them.

"… Mom kicked me out," was explaining Ron. "Said she wouldn't have me at home every time I rejoin the world of celibacy…"

"I believe ' _have you whining all day long every time you get dumped by a woman'_ were her exact words…" snorted Ginny slyly.

Ron cast her a dirty look.

"Yeah, well… She said it was time I took control of my life like a grown man and…"

"And this is exactly what you are doing here! Cheers, mate!" chuckled Harry, raising his glass of orange juice.

"They offered to host me for some time!" protested Ron.

"Hermione did," corrected Draco pleasantly. "But you are welcome. I've always wondered what it was like to have a pest in the house."

Ron's ears glowed red, but before he could reply anything, the Slytherin turned away dismissively and got up to pull a chair out for Hermione.

"Morning sickness?" asked Ginny sympathetically as she settled down.

"I actually thought I was done for today," hissed Hermione with a murderous look for the jug of milk at the other end of the dining table.

The jug of milk moved slightly to the right to hide the side of Blaise's head.

"It's a miracle the papers didn't get wind of the news yet," commented Harry. "Have you thought about how you'd like to make it public?"

Hermione let herself go against the back of her chair, caressing absentmindedly her barely showing belly through the white cashmere cardigan she was wearing. Next to her, Draco shifted to lay his hand on top of hers, failing to conceal the grin of proud superiority tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"The hardest part is to find a good title," smirked Hermione. "I was thinking about ' _Sacred Twenty-Eight minus One_ ' for the headline in _the Daily Prophet_. We made a quick calculus of the amount of money having a child is going to cost us, and giving Lucius a stroke to get the inheritance would spare us a lot of trouble."

"She is kidding," specified Draco, rolling his eyes.

Hermione hummed airily, sipping her cranberry juice. Harry and Ginny exchanged a look, a strange smile gracing their faces.

"So, hmm, maybe we could make a double announcement?" said Ginny lightly, seemingly focused on stirring her porridge.

Hermione froze with her glass raised halfway to her mouth and stared at her.

"Gin'?" she breathed, her eyes wide.

On the other side of Theo on her left, Ron had stopped eating; his gaze traveled between his best friend's and his sister's faces.

"Are you…?" started Hermione, her voice strangled with emotion.

Ginny looked up, beaming, and nodded.

"What?" croaked out Ron. "You are what?"

"Oh Gin'!" exclaimed Hermione, rising from her chair and reaching to hug her friend over the table.

"NO!"

Everyone jumped as Draco slammed his fist on the table. Plates and glasses rattled loudly. Hermione turned to see his smile slide off his face like yesterday's oatmeal off a plate.

"Uh oh…" muttered Theo.

Blaise emerged from behind the jug of milk to take a better look.

" _NO!_ " Draco repeated, springing to his feet and almost overthrowing his chair.

He clenched his fists and glowered at Harry, looking outraged.

"Curse on you, Potter!" he fumed. "Curse on you! Curse on your hippogriff! Curse on your whole family!"

"Draco, what the hell?!" exclaimed Hermione, scandalized, and tugged on his arm to try and force him back into his seat.

He merely shrugged her off.

"For once, Potter!" he yelled. "For once I was going to outstrip you, but you just had to go and knock Weaslette up, didn't you?"

"WHAT?" roared Ron.

"Seriously?" said Hermione exasperatedly, staring at Draco with a disbelieving look and slumping back into her chair.

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "I did not intend to…"

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK, POTTER!"

"I'm not sure this is how it works…" said Ginny, frowning.

The men did not pay her any attention. Harry had gotten to his feet as well, his shoulders squared, and was facing Draco, who had started pacing.

"You know what?" growled the Slytherin and waggled his finger at him. "I don't care! I don't care because my kid is going to be born first anyway! Isn't it, Hermione?" he asked, rounding on her. "When is it due?"

"End of August, but…"

"You hear that, Potter? End of August!"

"Well, ours is due at the end of August too," replied Harry calmly.

"YOU MARK MY WORDS!" shouted Draco. "Hermione, tell him you are going to give birth first!"

"I'm not signing up for this."

"She is going to! And he is going to get his Hogwarts letter first! And he'll get on the Quidditch team first! And…"

"You wanna bet?" cut him off Harry.

His calm expression was gone and had been replaced with the fierce, competitive look Hermione remembered him from Hogwarts and that he used to have every time the discussion concerned the House Cup or beating the Slytherins – and especially Malfoy – at Quidditch. He was leaning over the table, his palms set on the white tablecloth and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You just wait!" hissed Draco.

"You know," sighed Hermione wearily, turning to Theo, "it's when your best friend and your husband initiate a who-has-the-faster-sperm contest and you are not even allowed to drink that you realize Nature well and truly screwed women over."

"Here," said Theo knowingly and handed her a cup of what she initially thought was tea but could now catch a whiff of Firewhiskey wafting from it, "You could at least sniff the vapors to go through this."

* * *

 **References:**

"When I was nine years old, I fed cereal flakes to a frog, and it died. Then I went into a period of time where I fed cereal flakes to all little animals. Squirrels can live through it, chipmunks can live through it. Anything that lives half in and out of water dies, and I don't understand why. When I was ten, I once walked by my mother sleeping, and I snuck in the room, and I put a lemon in her mouth. When I was 11, I once tried on my girl cousin's wool tights, and I didn't hate the way it felt! My sixteenth year, I never got an erection. I thought they were done. I thought my penis was dead. It wasn't." – Nick Miller, _New Girl_ , Season 4 Episode 6.

"Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Make a note of this: dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow..." – Mushu, _Mulan._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I'm blown away by the response to this story! 95 follows, 38 favorites and 12 reviews after one single chapter! You are spoiling me, guys!

Oh, and I probably forgot to mention, but English is only my third language, so, yeah, I'm aware my stories must be peppered with small mistakes.

* * *

 _Wednesday morning, January 12th, 2005 – 9 weeks along_

 _Central London, Malfoy residence_

"Hermione, dear, are you sure you don't want to reconsider?"

Sipping her ginger tea, Hermione turned around to face the small assembly gathered in the vast kitchen and leaned against the worktop behind her. Her parents-in-law were sitting opposite each other at the gleaming granite kitchen island with a tray of muffins Mrs. Weasley had baked the day before between them. Their gazes were shifting between her and Draco, who was standing on her left. Ron was perched on his favorite bar stool at the other end of the kitchen and had been following with great interest the increasingly heated exchange over the past half an hour, devouring muffins like popcorn. Hermione cast him a disgruntled look. She let out an exasperated sigh and felt Draco's arm wrap tighter around her waist and pull her closer against his side to soothe her.

"I've done my part, I went to see her, and my decision is final," she answered Narcissa irritably. "I'm having this baby in a Muggle hospital, with Muggle doctors, and with enough machines around to know whenever the baby farts!"

"This Healer has an excellent reputation!" objected Lucius, stirring his coffee with his little finger in the air. "Her family has been working at St Mungo's for generations to bring Wizarding children into this world!"

"Could you at least explain what displeased you?" pleaded Narcissa.

"First of all, I'm not entrusting my pregnancy monitoring to a woman named Ciconia Softlanding."

"Why not? You entrusted your impregnation to a guy named Draco Malfoy…" chimed in Ron in a falsely discrete whisper from the other side of the kitchen.

" _Second of all,_ " pursued Hermione as though she hadn't been interrupted but squinting at him murderously, "while I agree that burning hallucinogenic mushrooms could work as laughing gas, I'd still like to warn you that if anyone tries to bring me to that crystal-covered escapee from the Dark Ages, I'm going to squeeze my legs shut and keep the Malfoy heir inside until I can have an epidural!"

"Giving birth is the most natural thing in the world!" replied Lucius dismissively. "Hundreds of generations of witches have been doing it perfectly fine without any _epicurial_ , and I see no reason why you would need…"

"This is going to get ugly…" muttered Draco under his breath.

Hermione opened her mouth angrily, but Narcissa was quicker.

"Lucius!"

He started, turning fearfully to his wife.

"No vagina, no opinion," mouthed Narcissa, pointing at him a threatening finger.

"Mom gave birth to all of us on the kitchen table with the help of a simple mediwitch and all went perfectly well!" interjected Ron again in a conversational voice.

"That table you are talking about, you burnt it, right?" asked Draco with a scowl of disgust.

Ron frowned and took another bite of muffin.

"No, it's still the one in the kitchen. You know that dark wood stain on the corner nearest the stove? It's actually where they put the placenta after my birth. Could never get rid of it."

"IT'S MY USUAL EATING SPOT!" shouted Draco, his eyes widening in horror.

"It's the lucky spot," shrugged Ron.

Draco emitted a choking sound, his cheeks turning a sickly gray. Hermione squeezed his hand in hers bracingly.

"Remind me why you are taking part in this discussion?" she said, glowering at Ron. "Don't you have to be at the Auror Office? Draco and I have an excuse to take a day off work, but I'm really not sure about the reason of your presence…"

"What do you mean?!" protested Ron, looking hurt. "I'm going to be one of the people raising that kid!"

Hermione's brows shot up.

"Since when?"

"Do you mean to tell us you are planning to still be around in seven months?" growled Draco, scandalized.

Ron pretended momentary deafness and rounded on Hermione.

"Since I'm its uncle!" he exclaimed, offended.

" _Fourth cousin once removed_ ," hissed Narcissa through gritted teeth, examining her elaborately painted fingernails.

Hermione waved at them all impatiently.

"Yes, well… Back to the topic, that Healer asked me if she could keep the umbilical cord for fertility potions!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.

"There is no obligation for you to accept," said Lucius. "But the umbilical cords of Wizarding children have great properties and are very valuable. Although I'm not sure this works as well when the child is not pure- _ahhh_ …" Lucius' voice died miserably in his throat as he looked up and met Hermione's gaze.

"Yes?" she said sweetly. "Any comment about the blood status of your unborn grandchild?"

Her father-in-law shook his head frantically. Her eyes locked unblinkingly on Lucius, whose eyelid twitched as he tried to hold her gaze, Hermione nudged Draco.

"Draco?" she asked innocently. "What's the headline we settled on for _the_ _Prophet_ already?"

Lucius paled and Hermione broke eye contact. She kept watching him out of the corner of her eye as she finished her infusion. She set her cup down on the worktop and frowned, sniffing the fluttery sleeves of her blue silk blouse.

"I'm still reeking of Patchouli fumes!" she huffed with disgust. "Have you seen all the incense burning in her office? It was like being in a hookah lounge! I feel like she'd try and smoke the baby out of my vagina when the day comes! No. My opinion is no. We have an appointment with a Muggle ob-gyn this afternoon, and I think it's safe to say she is not going to try to teach me a fertility dance to perform every evening to prepare the muscles of my back!"

 **/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\**

 _Wednesday afternoon_

 _Central London, Gynecologist's office_

Settled on the smooth gynecological chair with a content expression, Hermione ran her gaze around the clear examining room of the ob-gyn practitioner. Even though the white window curtains were drawn to ensure the privacy of the patients, the lamps overhead, the pastel colors and the sleek lines of the modern furniture created a bright and serene setting. She was readjusting the powder pink sheet over her naked half-bent legs when a metallic clatter disrupted the silence. Hermione looked at Draco, who was standing at the foot of the chair next to the heating tray of metallic surgical instruments, and sighed.

"Draco, would you please put this down?"

"Looks like a duck…" he commented, picking up a speculum and examining it with curiosity. "What is she going to do with it? Pin your hair up? Might want a bigger one…"

"That opens my cervix."

"Fuck!"

Hermione held back a laugh as he dropped the speculum on the tray and jumped away from it with a look of utter horror.

"You are not going to grow one by touching it," she chuckled, shaking her head.

He didn't answer and went to stand on the other side of the chair, casting sideways glances full of revulsion at the instruments.

"Barbarians…" he grumbled under his breath. "Don't you worry, okay?" he added softly, rubbing her knees gently. "Everything is going to be fine. They warmed these things so you won't catch a cold…"

"Could you please come next to me?" asked Hermione, squirming. "I know you are very well acquainted with this part of my body, but this is making me slightly uncomfortable…"

"I was talking to the baby! I believe the acoustics are much better here!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but at that moment, the door opened and a rather severe-looking, middle-aged blond woman with a pixie cut and clad in a long white coat and a navy blue pencil skirt entered the room. She was carrying a file under her arm.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?" she said with a professional smile. "I'm Doctor Roberts."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor," answered Hermione, beaming when she didn't spot any amulets and crystals hanging from the woman's neck and clothes.

Doctor Roberts went to sit at the elegant steel desk next to the head of the gynecological chair and typed something on the computer.

"So how is this going to happen?" she inquired. "Am I supposed to announce the news to every potential father?"

Hermione and Draco exchanged a bewildered look.

"I'm talking about the two young men in the waiting room claiming they are with you," clarified Doctor Roberts, slipping her long, thin hands into a pair of surgical gloves. "They seem… extremely involved."

She lifted the powder pink sheet a little and deftly smeared some chilled gel on Hermione's stomach, before pressing the probe of the ultrasound unit against her skin.

"Oh, they are not really men…" said Hermione lightly. "Overgrown kids at best… One of them had nothing better to do today…"

"… and the other is a giant leech," finished Draco.

He went to stand next to her and slipped an arm around her shoulders while Doctor Roberts focused on the black and white screen.

"Please refrain from bringing them the next time," she said with a tight smile. "The overly-enthusiastic one is scaring our patients and the other is halfway through our stock of free lollipops."

She moved toward Hermione's legs and plunged her arms under the sheet, erasing the smile from Hermione's face. Draco deposited a small kiss on her temple.

"How is this going until now?" asked the Doctor as Hermione's features crinkled in discomfort. "Have you been experiencing much inconvenience? Morning sickness? Headaches?"

"They are actively contributing to it..." sneered Hermione, glaring at the closed door that gave to the waiting room.

"I can imagine. Are your breasts sore? Have you noticed any change in size?"

Feeling a chuckle thrum inside his chest, Hermione looked up at Draco and quirked an eyebrow.

"Why are you looking so proud?"

His face fell a little.

"Well, I put that on my vision board… I thought that was because of me!"

"Who does that?" she scoffed.

"I do! People like me, visionaries!"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, looking exhausted. A muffled yelp from the waiting room made them all turn to the door.

"What was that?!" whispered Hermione to Draco with a sense of nasty foreboding.

Doctor Roberts stood up, covered Hermione's legs back with the sheet, took off her surgical gloves and left the room. She returned less than a minute later with an annoyed expression.

"Your overly enthusiastic friend needed some ice for his eye."

"What happened?!" exclaimed Hermione, alarmed.

"I'm sure he was only trying to be considerate, but ' _How are your mucous membranes going?_ ' is certainly not an appropriate question to ask a pregnant woman…" answered Doctor Roberts imperturbably, while Hermione covered her face with her hands, mortified. "We'll finish with a sonogram, shall we?"

She had barely settled behind her screen and pressed the probe against Hermione's belly again that the door of the examining room was thrown open and Theo and Ron barged in despite the vehement protests of the outraged and slightly winded nurse who was trying to block their way.

"What the hell!" shouted Draco, jumping in between the gynecological chair and the door to make sure Hermione was fully covered.

"Can we come in?" asked Theo, letting himself in without waiting for an answer. "It's getting dangerous for us out there…" He was holding a blue pack of ice against his left eye. "Oh, come on now, lady! I've seen both of them naked already! They have no secrets for me!" he chanted, slamming the door in the nurse's face.

"Stay away or it's going to get dangerous here too!" hissed Draco at him and Ron.

Hermione let herself go against the pillow.

"Involved you said, huh?" she hummed, staring at the ceiling with resignation.

 _Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump._ Everybody froze, their heads turned to the source of the noise: the black and white screen of the ultrasound unit. For the first time, a genuine smile graced Doctor Roberts face as she pressed the probe against a particular spot on Hermione's stomach.

"What's that?" breathed Draco.

"Is that…" croaked out Ron.

"Oh Merlin!" squealed Theo.

Without tearing her eyes away from the pulsing image on the screen, her breathing quick and short, Hermione fumbled through the air for Draco's hand and felt three hands close around hers instead. For a long moment, the silence in the suddenly overcrowded room was only broken by the quiet yet steady _thump thump, thump thump, thump thump_ … Hermione looked up at Draco, who seemed as much at a loss for words as she was.

"I can't wait to meet you, little one!" murmured Ron, looking mesmerized and squeezing Hermione's left knee with his free hand.

"I'm going to play with you all day long!" beamed Theo, tearing up and getting hold of her right knee.

"MY FACE IS UP HERE!" roared Hermione.

* * *

 **References:** The second part of this chapter is loosely inspired from _Friends_ , season 1 episode 2: ' _The one with the sonogram at the end_ '.

"Yeah, of course I noticed your boobs getting bigger. I put that on my vision board, okay? I thought that was because of me.

Who does that?

I do! People like me, visionaries!" – Meg (Leslie Mann) and Ken (Jake Lacy), _How to be single_ (2016)


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning:** This story is not rated M for nothing! (Lemony naughtiness ahead… *wink wonk*)

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 _Sunday, February 6_ _th_ _– 12 weeks along_

 _Central London, Malfoy residence_

"What do you think it's going to be?" whispered Hermione pensively, stroking the back of Draco's head resting between her breasts.

They were lying in the middle of the four poster bed, one of his legs hooked over hers, wrinkled sheets pooling to the floor. His white-blond hair looked silvery in the slanting beams of moonlight streaming through the window on their left.

"It'll be a boy," he answered without a second's hesitation, his fingertips tracing lazy patterns on the bare skin of her slightly curved belly.

Hermione frowned.

"How can you be so sure? It's too soon to tell even for the doctor. During the first three months, most babies look like girls. They say you are supposed to sense it, but I really couldn't tell…"

"Malfoy first-borns are boys," replied Draco, unimpressed.

His fingers stopped their dance across her skin, and he pressed his palm flat against her stomach in a half-protective, half-possessive gesture.

"You are overestimating your genes and clearly underestimating mine," snorted Hermione, tugging on his earlobe playfully.

Draco raised his head, and propping himself up on his elbows, crawled up her body until she was caged between his arms and his face hovered an inch above hers, the tips of their noses almost touching.

"I think you're afraid of finding yourself in the minority," he drawled with a cheeky smirk, his eyes boring into hers.

Her scornful reply turned into a sigh and her eyes fluttered shut when he dipped his head to trail soft kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. Her hands gripped his shoulders and her legs parted instinctively as the whole length of his body weighed down on her. She could feel the thin line of feathery hair under his navel tickle the skin of her lower stomach.

"You know what I really want right now?" she breathed wistfully as he shifted on top of her.

His hands slid between her back and the mattress and lifted her slightly off the bed while his lips closed around one of her nipples. Hermione gasped; the brief grazing of his teeth and the brush of his tongue that followed, though gentle, were almost painful for her overly sensitive breasts. Draco let out a satisfied chuckle, his breath hot on her skin, and lifted his head to cast her a hungry look.

"Oh yes, I know _exactly_ what you want…" he hummed with a wolfish grin.

The smile was quickly erased from his face when Hermione suddenly pushed him away and sat up.

"So we still have green olives and chocolate?" she beamed, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and picking up a bed sheet to wrap it around her naked body.

"What?" blinked Draco. "Come back here, young lady!" he shouted, lunging forward and catching her around the waist as she headed for the door.

He half-carried her to the bed and dragged her back in the middle of it, climbing on top of her and pinning her squirming form under his body.

"You've been rubbing against me and wrapping yourself around my body like Devil's Snare through the whole night, you woke me up at three in the morning, and you mean to tell me it's already over?!" he growled, tugging the sheet off her.

"I was cold…" retorted Hermione unconvincingly between two gasps of laughter.

"I'd say you were quite the opposite! You think you can have a go at me and saunter off like this?"

Draco lifted himself on his arms, holding her wrists on either side of her head, and glowered at her threateningly. His intimidating expression was greatly undermined by his being unable to refrain himself from slowly moving back and forth between her legs. Hermione bucked her hips against his hardness and watched with a glint of triumph in her eyes as his eyelids closed briefly and he hissed a breath. She herself couldn't hold back the shudder that ran up her spine, but Draco recovered quickly and pulled away, smirking as she failed to hide her frustration.

"I did not have a go at you!" protested Hermione, struggling to escape his hold on her wrists. "We were both participating! Well, maybe I was a bit more active than you, but…"

"Really? You reached the finish line and made a lap of honor before I even knew the race had started! Your activeness was bordering on assault!" he hummed distractedly, moving down her body and depositing kisses on her breasts, ribs, and stomach as he went.

"It wasn't like you put up much fight!" huffed Hermione.

"When I woke up, you were straddling my legs and tearing my pants off me! How do you call that?"

"Foreplay… Mmmh…"

Her voice faltered when Draco's hands grabbed her legs under the knees and forced them further apart. His mouth sucked on the soft flesh of her inner thigh and he made sure to leave a faint bite mark before he drew away only to nuzzle his face between her legs, his tongue coaxing more panting moans from her.

"Mmmh… Oh! Oh… But I quickly figured you didn't need much persuasion!" she finished at last in a whimper.

He paused and looked up at her, quirking an eyebrow.

"You coerced me into submission! You call it foreplay; I call it the praying mantis move: you went straight for the head! Little Dragon will never be the same; he experienced things tonight he never did before! Not that I'm complaining… I think at some point my spirit left my body and watched the scene from above. You did look quite hungry!"

He realized his poor choice of words when he saw her mouthing ' _green olives and chocolate'_ with a half-apologetic, half-laughing look.

"Damn it!" groaned Draco, miming banging his forehead against her stomach.

"I'm sorry! I'm not the one in charge anymore!" giggled Hermione, trying to wriggle out of his embrace but he held her firmly.

"I will buy you a broom for your first birthday if you stop turning Mommy into a walking stomach and let her climb all over me again!" he whispered to her belly, before reluctantly consenting to release her.

He watched regretfully as she draped a silk dressing gown around her shoulders and tied the ribbon around her waist. He resolved to slip into his black pajama bottoms as well and followed her out of the room and down the dim carpeted hallway. But upon arriving on the stairs landing, they both froze: angry screams were rising from the ground floor hall.

"Murder! This is bloody murder!"

Hermione recognized Ron's voice as he shouted himself hoarse. Exchanging an alarmed look, she and Draco hurried down the stairs. A column of light was coming from the kitchen, shielded by Theo's silhouette planted in the open doorway and facing an apparently incensed Ron.

"Why didn't you return to America?" he bellowed at the brunet's impassive face.

Noticing Hermione and Draco as they reached the bottom of the stairs, he rounded on them:

"Finally! You come to save me!"

"Save you from what?" asked Hermione, bewildered.

"From hypoglycemia!" Ron all but shouted. "He won't allow me into the kitchen! I'm going to faint… I can't see clear anymore!" He shoved his bare arms under her nose so suddenly that she jumped away and bumped into Draco's chest. "See, I'm already drying up! It's the lack of fat!"

"I'm sure we didn't have enough pumpkin pie on Halloween 1995 because Weasley was granted an access to the Hogwarts kitchens!" exclaimed Theo before Hermione could say anything. "I'm only trying to ensure there is enough food left in this house for the people who actually need it: a pregnant woman and her baby!"

"Theo, it's not like we're expecting a siege! If he wants to eat, let him…" sighed Hermione wearily.

"You realize he is having three snacks a night, each one enough to feed at least two people?" retorted Theo with a disgusted look at Ron, but stepping aside nonetheless to let them all in.

"And what else do you want me to do?" Ron fired back. "My room is on the same floor as theirs! I can't sleep with all these screams!"

Hermione, who had her hand on the fridge door, whirled around, blushing furiously.

"I wasn't screaming!" she protested.

"I was talking about him," grunted Ron, nodding at Draco.

The latter leaned against the worktop and crossed his arms, considering Ron with an utterly unabashed look.

"If it doesn't drive you out of this house, then it's still not loud enough," he replied calmly.

Lifting her gaze to the ceiling as though praying for some extra patience, Hermione took a jar of green olives and a pot of chocolate mousse out of the fridge and drew a sharp breath when Ron trod on her feet in his rush to reunite with the cutting board laden with dried and salted deli meats. She went to sit at the kitchen island, glowering at the three men. Her face brightened a little after a few mouthfuls of green olives dipped in the chocolate mousse. Theo, however, kept glaring daggers at Ron while the latter dug more food out of the fridge.

"Theo, we offered you to stay here because you didn't want to live at the hotel anymore," said Hermione. "We did not appoint you intendant."

"See where you can put your restrictions?" sneered Ron at Theo, a piece of hard cheese hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Theo watched him for a moment then turned to the window where a big ginger cat with a squashed head was curled up on the ledge. The animal's eyes were narrowed into slits and he was apparently napping, magisterially ignoring them all.

"Crookshanks, he is eating your tuna," said Theo lightly.

The illicit tuna sandwich held halfway to his mouth, Ron froze as the cat's ears perked up. Crookshanks uncurled his shaggy body, stretched leisurely, sprang off the windowsill and trotted across the kitchen to sink his claws into Ron's exposed calf. In the string of obscenities that escaped Ron's mouth, Hermione caught the words ' _you dirty, patched cock sock!_ ' but couldn't tell whether the insult was meant for Crookshanks or Theo. With an appreciative look for the cat, who was now eating the sandwich Ron had dropped on the floor, Draco went to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands caressing her slightly rounded belly.

"You have salty cravings. Mother says it means a boy," he whispered into her ear.

"I'm also eating chocolate," replied Hermione, grinning.

"You wanna bet?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You already have a bet going on with Harry about my _speed of delivery_ …" she sighed. "You know what?" she said after a moment, pausing and looking up at Draco. "Let's do this. If it's a girl, I get to choose the godfather."

"It's not going to be Potter," he said immediately.

Hermione held his gaze, licking the chocolate off her spoon with an innocent and unconcerned expression. Draco unwrapped his arms from around her waist and took a step back.

"No way!" he growled threateningly.

"If you are so sure it's a boy, you have nothing to be afraid of…" said Hermione sweetly.

"Fine," he said at last through gritted teeth. "And if I'm right, I get to choose the godfather and you'll allow my parents to babysit him at least twice a week."

"If it's Blaise, he sure needs babysitting."

"I was talking about the baby."

Hermione sniffed.

"I veto Blaise as a godfather."

"You can't veto the godfather I get to choose if I win."

"Then you can't veto Harry."

"Fine, whoever wins has full power to choose the godfather."

"Deal."

They gauged each other with falsely defiant looks before their faces split into a smile and Draco pulled Hermione back into his embrace.

"This child has more bets going on about it than a Snitch during a Quidditch finale," commented Theo disapprovingly.

"If anything, I'd say this child is going to be a Quaffle, and it's through my goal hoop it's going to pass, so if anyone can try and make a profit out of it, it's me!" retorted Hermione.

"And the guy who scored the goal…" smirked Draco.

"Aaaand I'm done…" muttered Ron, pushing away his plate and looking nauseous.

"You know I don't care what the sex of the baby is, right?" said Draco in a low voice, nuzzling his face in the crook of Hermione's neck. "It's _our_ baby. It's the only thing that matters."

She smiled, swiveling on the bar stool and shifting between his arms to face him. She planted a soft kiss on the side of his jaw and then pressed her lips against his, threading her fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

"Get it while you can, because it gets boring. Same old lips, year after year, with no spark, just dead tongues touching like decaying salmon…" professed glumly Ron's voice behind them.

"Oh my god, Weasley!" barked Draco, breaking the kiss and slamming his fist on the table.

"I did it!" rejoiced Ron with a shit-eating grin.

Draco shot him a dirty look.

"I will murder you and clean up your blood with the cat," he promised.

* * *

 **References:**

"From hypoglycemia! I'm going to faint… I can't see clear anymore! See, I'm already drying up! It's the lack of fat!" These words are translated from French, and Theo and Ron bickering about the food is loosely inspired from an episode of the French series _Kaamelott_ (season 2, episode 92: Knight Karadoc bickering with a servant).

"Get it while you can, because it gets boring. Same old lips, year after year, with no spark, just dead tongues touching like decaying salmon." – Winston Bishop, _New Girl_ , season 5 episode 21.

"I will murder you and clean up your blood with the cat." – Cece, _New Girl_ , season 4 episode 16.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _Friday afternoon, March 4_ _th_ _, 2005 – 16 weeks along_

 _Central London, Malfoy residence_

"Don't panic! Don't panic! Whatever happens, don't panic!"

Hermione gritted her teeth as Ron's frantic shouting echoed through the house, starting behind her back at the top of the staircase and fading in the distance as he bolted down the steps, an enormous travel bag hung across his body emitting all sorts of improbable clanking in his wake.

"I'm not panicking. It's probably just Braxton Hicks contractions," she sighed, but he had already disappeared into the living room.

She rolled her eyes and exchanged an exasperated look with Theo, who was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs with her coat in the crook of his arm. Hermione slowly descended the steps, cautiously holding onto the handrail with one hand and pressing the other against her rounded belly that had grown significantly over the past month.

"I got this!" bellowed Ron again, crossing the entrance hall in a blur like a maddened goose.

Theo's worried features crinkled into a scowl.

" _We_ got this!" he shouted after Ron as the latter sprinted into the dining room, the travel bag rattling more than ever. "What the fuck are you doing, Weasley?"

"Do we need to get the toaster?" yelled Ron from the kitchen with a note of panicked dementia in his voice.

"Why would we need the toaster?!" exclaimed Theo impatiently, holding the coat for Hermione while she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

"Let him take it," she murmured. "It might come in handy when I decide to knock him out…"

There was the sound of a car horn tooting outside the house and Ron burst out of the kitchen, dragging the travel bag behind him. In his haste to reach the front door, he tripped on the carpet and fell flat on the floor with a resounding thud under Theo's uncompassionate gaze. ' _Taxi'_ he mouthed breathlessly, all air knocked out of his lungs.

"There is a special place for me in Heaven…" muttered Hermione grimly, stepping over Ron as she headed for the door.

"Somewhere there is someone with a tranquilizer gun and a huge butterfly net looking for Weasley," sighed Theo, casting a pitying look over his shoulder and following her to the car without deigning to help Ron to his feet.

 _Friday afternoon, March 4_ _th_ _(half an hour later)_

 _Central London, Gynecologist's office_

"It's an emergency! It's an emergency!"

Hermione winced, recoiling from Ron as he jumped to her side and slammed his palms on the reception desk before a bewildered nurse in a peach-colored uniform. Looking scandalized, the woman hurried to lead them into the medical examination room nonetheless and left to inform Doctor Roberts about their presence.

"Stop yelling in my ear!" Hermione hissed at Ron angrily, going to sit on the edge of the gynecological chair and wondering whether she would have to call someone to forcibly remove him and Theo from the room to get some privacy.

"You are going to have a baby; get used to it!" shrugged Ron.

She aimed to thwack him around the head, but the door opened with a bang and Draco barged in, disheveled, winded, and with a look of utter panic on his face.

"What happened? Is everything alright?" he croaked out, crossing the bright room in a few long strides and taking hold of Hermione's hand as he stopped by her side.

"Took you long enough!" scolded Theo.

"Weasley sent me very confusing instructions!" exclaimed Draco furiously.

"There was nothing confusing about them!"

"You sent a Howler that sounded like an epileptic ghoul and two owls, one of which was to ask if you needed to get the toaster!"

Hermione's hand twitched at her side as she pondered whether she had the time to reach for her wand and hex them mute, but the door swung open again and Doctor Roberts appeared on the threshold, effectively silencing the three bickering men. The blond woman did not look particularly surprised to find her office overcrowded, but Hermione caught a dangerous flicker in her eyes as she entered the bright room and shut the door behind her. Hermione shot a death glare at the three men; with tattoo artists and brain surgeons, gynecologists were definitely among the people it was the most ill-advised to piss off before they got acquainted with the most intimate parts of your body.

"How are we feeling today?" said Doctor Roberts stoically, making her way to her desk.

"Stressed out," answered Draco.

"I woke up with a stiff neck," said Theo.

"My left testicle feels heavier than usual…" mumbled Ron.

Doctor Roberts paused, half-turning to them and giving them a sharp look, and went to a shelf to retrieve a large hardback book that looked like an encyclopedia. Hermione glimpsed the words _'27 Venereal Diseases illustrated_ ' printed in silver lettering on the elegant, light gray binding.

"Here, take this…" said Doctor Roberts pleasantly, handing the book to Ron and Theo and ushering them to the armchairs against the far wall of the room.

"Oh, pretty colors…" said Theo, opening the book and examining the colorful glossy pages with curiosity. "What are we looking at?"

"Gonorrhea," answered Doctor Roberts airily.

Theo's jaw dropped and Ron's cheeks turned a greenish tinge, his mouth opening on a silent scream. Doctor Roberts smiled sweetly and took advantage of their momentary horror-induced paralysis to pull a pastel-colored folding screen around the gynecological chair. Hermione and Draco exchanged impressed looks.

"Now, Mrs. Malfoy…" she said, delicately ignoring their admiring stares. "How are we feeling today?"

"I had pains in my lower abdomen about an hour ago, but now it's over," answered Hermione, squeezing Draco's hand soothingly as he flinched at her side, his expression immediately becoming stern and worried.

"There is probably nothing to worry about, but we are going to do some tests," said Doctor Roberts reassuringly. "It might be Braxton Hicks contractions; it's not unusual at this point…"

She motioned for Hermione to settle on the gynecological chair and took a blood sample before letting the young woman bunch up her tunic and proceeding with an ultrasound. Despite her many assurances that she wasn't worried, Hermione couldn't help but twist her neck to peer at the black and white screen.

"Is the baby alright?"

Just as she voiced the question, the regular thumping of a heartbeat, slightly distorted by the machine, filled the room.

"Yes, everything looks perfectly fine," smiled Doctor Roberts, and Draco released an audible sigh.

"Ronaldo is alright!" sounded Ron's relieved voice behind the folding screen as he apparently recovered his ability to speak.

"What?" frowned Draco.

"What?" said Ron.

"Who is Ronaldo?" asked Hermione.

"The baby… You are not going to keep calling it the baby, are you? So I figured Ronaldo might be a great name…" explained Ron.

"No," snapped Draco at once.

"Hey, I'm not picky! It can be Ronan…"

Hermione cast a sideways glance at Doctor Roberts, who was scribbling something on a medical form, purposefully keeping her eyes trained on the paper.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said, getting up, her features perfectly straight. "I'll take the blood sample to the lab."

"Or Rondale…"

Doctor Roberts hurried out of the room.

"If there is anyone who gets to name him, it's me!" barked Draco in the direction of the folding screen.

"Or Ronson…" continued Ron's voice imperturbably.

Hermione tilted her head to look Draco up and down and quirked an eyebrow.

"Says who?" she asked, the ominous glint in her eyes contradicting her sweet smile.

"It's my first-born," replied Draco haughtily.

"And if it's a girl: Ronnie…"

"Sure, you deserve to name it so much more," chimed in Theo's singsong voice behind the screen, "After all, a one-minute orgasm is so much harder than nine months of childbearing before pushing a Quaffle-sized human being with the destructive potential of a Bludger out of your nether parts."

"It was ten seconds…" corrected Hermione lightly.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and she smirked.

"My mistake!" snorted Theo. "And to think I shared a dorm with him for seven years… My memory is getting bad…"

"Or Ronnalise…" was pursuing Ron.

"I was thinking about Scorpius, or Halcyon, or Hyperion…" announced Draco in a louder voice, pretending he didn't pay them any attention.

Hermione crinkled her nose.

"Why do you already hate our child?"

"What's wrong with these names? All the Malfoys are named after a star or a constellation!"

"Yes, and among the hundreds of thousands of celestial bodies, the Malfoys have a knack for choosing the ones that will get the poor kid's ass kicked at school!"

"I never got my ass kicked!" protested Draco.

"Narrowly missed out, I assure you…" commented Theo pleasantly.

He trailed off as the door opened and Doctor Roberts strode back into the room.

"Or Ronnela! It's up to you, really!" finished Ron hopefully.

Doctor Roberts paused next to the folding screen, looking over her shoulder.

"Turn to page 394," she ordered Ron and Theo.

There was a sound of rustling paper.

"What are we looking at now?" asked Theo interestedly.

"Chlamydia."

In the shocked silence that followed, she went to sit in her swivel chair next to Hermione, a devilish smirk gracing her lips.

"So everything is really alright?" asked Hermione again anxiously.

"Yes," nodded the gynecologist, reading through the form they had filled upon their arrival. "It's this combination: pickles, anchovies, banana, and chips."

"So it's really ..."

"It's air."

Hermione blushed furiously.

"Right, so, in the future regular chips, not hot, spicy barbecue?" she mumbled in a small voice.

"Or maybe no chips. Try that. Do you have any questions?"

Doctor Roberts pivoted on her chair to face them, obviously impatient to have the whole lot out of her office.

"Yes!" shouted a voice from the other side of the folding screen. "If the baby farts, where does it go?"

"Ronald, don't speak out loud!" hissed Hermione at the meddling screen. "You are lowering the IQ of the whole street!"

"Why are you always so mad at me? I'm trying to be invested in our baby's development!"

"It's not OUR baby!" shot back Hermione, jumping off the gynecological chair and tugging down her tunic, unaware that Doctor Roberts had tossed her papers on the desk in defeat and was discretely edging out of the room. "YOU HAVE NO PART IN ITS DEVELOPMENT!"

"In Peru at the "Um Bat Do ', fatherhood is a shared responsibility among many tribal members," intervened Theo conversationally.

"Fortunately, I do not live in Peru!" exclaimed Hermione. "I live in Kensington!"

* * *

 **References:**

"Somewhere there is someone with a tranquilizer gun and a huge butterfly net looking for that man." – Chandler, _Friends_ , S8E18.

"Stop yelling in my ear!

You are going to have a baby; get used to it!" – I think there was a scene like this in _The Big Bang Theory_ (with Bernadette and Howard I think), but I can't find the exact episode, so if anybody knows it, tell me so I can reference it properly!

"It's this combination: pickles, anchovies, banana, and Pringles.

So it's really...

It's air.

Right, so, in the future regular Pringles, not hot, spicy barbecue?

Or maybe no Pringles. Try that." – Bridget at the doctor's, _Bridget Jones Baby_.

"Anderson, don't speak out loud! You are lowering the IQ of the whole street!" – Sherlock Holmes, _Sherlock_ , S1E1.

"In Peru at the "Um Bat Do ', fatherhood is a shared responsibility among many tribal members.

Unfortunately, we do not live in Peru. I live in Ealing." – _Bridget Jones Baby_.


End file.
